Our Pastor: IAN WRISLEY

Favorite Color: I don't have a favorite color; it depends on what's being colored. Blue is lovely, but not fingertips or lips. Red in sunsets is delightful, but not in milk.

Favorite Place in the World: My favorite places tend to be where I am. I try (and often succeed) to find beauty everywhere. Then, my favorite places are where I was. They're small places: old apartments, short stretches of riverbank, street corners, bookstores, and church basements.

Favorite Place in Gunnison Valley: There's a little place up Cement Creek Road where the aspens bend over the road, creating a neat tunnel that reminds me of backroads in Ohio, one in particular where we'd go when I was a child. There was a spring there, and we'd fill old soda bottles, beer bottles, milk jugs-- anything my mother could lay her hands on-- and take that water home.

How I Like My Coffee: In ceramic, the lip not too thick, not too thin. Black, sometimes with cream. With whiskey, on occasion. Mostly in the morning, but also late at night on long road trips, burnt-to-stinking from gas station hot plates. Coffee house espresso, if it's done right. Aero Pressed on my counter. I've rarely had a bad cup in the entire valley.

Fun Fact About Me: I've won writing contests and failed freshman English in college.

Someone From History I'd Like To Meet: My 8 year old self. He was pretty confident, loving life-- curious and hopeful. He wasn't jaded or corrupted by religion, philosophy, politics, or age. Sometimes I wonder what he'd make of this life I've led.

My name is Ian Wrisley. I’m the pastor of the Gunnison Congregational Church. My family and I have lived in the Valley nearly a decade. My wife and I raised two kids here. I’ve been involved in various ministries, local organizations, the Crested Butte Mountain Theatre, and I’ve worked as a carpenter, as well.

I’m supposed to tell you a little about myself here, so I’ll use this space to describe a few things I value. I’ve noticed that lots of pastors like to say they like strong coffee and/or good beer, but I guess that goes without saying.

I tend toward caution when I talk about God — everyone means something a little different. Recently, this word, “numinous,” has started showing up in my thinking, my conversation. It means hinting at divinity, and I think that’s a good way to think about all of life. It’s not certainty; it’s not obvious; it’s revelation that suggests. It’s a hint, shadow, a whiff of possibility that leads to the next glimmer, and the next. There’s an emptiness, a presence, a loss and a fullness we all experience, a numinous hint, prompting kindness and generosity.

But not in a gauzy, feel-good way. One thing is clear, when you read the gospels or attend to the Christian tradition: we are indeed the keepers of our sisters and brothers. We, as individuals and as a community of holy spirit, find ourselves and find the numinous in others. We’re called by that hint of divinity, by the text and tradition, to serve those who have less than we do, to amplify silenced voices, and (this might be the most important bit) to give away our power to those who are disempowered by the systems of the world. We want to both help those who are hurting and stop what is hurting them. The balance between charity and activism is important. Most churches are great at charity and fearful of activism. I hope we can be a community who strikes that balance.

My life has been nourished. Music, literature, film, myth, religious imagery, science, and family have spoken to me. Christians, Jews, Buddhists, atheists, spiritual-but-not-religious and religious-but-not-spiritual types have been merciful and harsh with me and have drawn me deeper into the numinous. I imagine it’s the same for you. I hope you’ll join us as we explore the mystery at the center of living.